


The Nature of the Beast

by Sandrine Shaw (Sandrine)



Category: Jekyll & Hyde - Wildhorn
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-16
Updated: 2012-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-31 06:51:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandrine/pseuds/Sandrine%20Shaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hyde stakes his claim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Nature of the Beast

It probably wasn't wise to be out at this hour. Particularly not in Whitechapel, and especially not with a murderer on the loose. But this wasn't the time to be wise, Simon reckoned as he staggered through the alley. Not when he was drunk and desperate and bloody furious. Because Lisa wouldn't see how much better he was for her than her precious doctor; and when he'd tried to find a whore to relieve the tension - an outrageous young thing with blonde locks and eyes of sky blue that matched Lisa's - the amount of alcohol in his system had taken its toll and... well, it just wasn't his night.

He raised the bottle to his lips and took another swing, enjoying the burn in his throat. With mild amusement, he watched an elderly, ragged couple hasting down the street, the woman carrying a large suitcase while her companion yelled at her to go faster or else they'd miss their ship.

He didn't quite understand the people's panic. A handful of corpses, and the whole town was in a fuzz, everyone suddenly eager to leave London as fast as their legs would carry them. Idiots, Stride thought. Not like one madman could wipe out a whole city, even if they didn't catch him. As things were standing, they'd be more likely to die of syphilis than of murderer.

The deaths of the members of the Board certainly didn't faze him much. Honestly, anyone who mourned the likes of Beaconsfield or Glossop was either retarded or a bloody hypocrite. Stride grinned to himself as he rounded another corner, strangely amused at his morbid track of thoughts. He stopped abruptly, his smile fading as he took in his surroundings. The pavement swayed under his feel and, fuck, he didn't have the faintest idea where the hell he was.

Had he been sober, he would have been worried. Now, in his present state of blissful intoxication, the idea of being lost all but amused him. He wasn't exactly sure why but for some reason, he thought it was hilariously funny. Ribbons of laughter ran through him, sending tremors through his body and tears shooting into his eyes. God in Heaven, that was too rich! Well, there wasn't so much else left that could go wrong tonight, he thought as he chuckled.

A dark voice from behind him made him jump. "My my my, look who's here! You seem to be in quite a merry mood, Mr. Stride." 

Stride spun around. He hadn't heard anyone approaching. All he could see was a blur. He blinked a couple of times, trying to clear his head. 

As if to assist, the other man stepped closer. He was incredibly tall, his long black hair and heavy fur coat making him look almost leonine - more like a wild beast than a human being. 

"Are you not feeling well, my friend?" he asked in a sympathetic voice, but something was off. The hair at the back of Simon's neck stood up at the stranger's approach. The other reached out and took the bottle out of Simon's hand, regarding it for a moment without paying attention to the sound of protest the young man uttered. "Had too much of that?" He took a large swing from the bottle, gulping down the rest of the whiskey.

"Hey, that's mine!" Stride objected, a frown marring his forehead. Yes, something was very, very wrong here. "Who are you? Do I know you?" He had the feeling that he did, but he'd be damned if he remembered.

There suddenly was a smile on the stranger's lips, and somehow it was the single most unsettling thing Simon had ever seen. It made him look truly and utterly insane. Stride felt like turning and running. Maybe he would have, if the other man hadn't spoken. 

"No, I don't think we've been introduced yet. My name is Hyde. Edward Hyde."

Hyde smiled again and fixed him with a stare. Coal black eyes burned into Simon's and the realization that this man was dangerous, to say the very least, wormed through his intoxication. 

He straightened and tried to hide the throbbing fear behind his usual haughty attitude, but the mask was slipping. "Well, I... I'd better go. I've places to be, you know." 

"Oh, I don't think so", Hyde grated as he took a step towards Stride who, in turn, stepped back. He could almost feel the adrenalin rushing through his veins, sobering him quite effectively. 

"Look", Stride said with a frown, annoyance for a moment overcoming his fear. "I don't know who you are and what you want but frankly, I don't care. I'm going home now. Have a good night, Mister." His jaw was set in determination, the grey eyes blazing in anger. He resolutely stepped forward, trying to walk past Hyde when a strong arm shot out and held him back. Before he knew what was happening, he found himself shoved back and it was all he could do not to lose balance and fall.

"I don't think I gave you permission to leave, my dear Mr. Stride."

Simon gasped, regaining his sense of balance - at least physically. It was only now that he realized what was weird about the other man's way of addressing him. Drunk as he had been, he was quite sure that he had never introduced himself to the stranger. "Where... where do you know my name from?" His eyes narrowed. "Who sent you?" he demanded.

Roaring laughter filled the air. "Simon, Simon, Simon - you insult me! You think I would let anyone _sent_ me? You think I'd allow anyone to tell me what to do?" With a lopsided grin on his lips, Hyde shook his head, long hair flying. "You're even more inept than I thought then."

Stride ran a nervous hand over his face, wiping away the sweat standing on his forehead. "Look, you want money? I don't have much, but..." He reached inside his jacket, fishing for his purse.

His hand was knocked away with a forceful slap. 

"I don't want your money."

"Then what do you want?" Simon yelled, panic seizing him. The only thing he wanted was to get away from this place and the mysterious attacker as fast as possible. The longer he stayed, the less likely it as that he got out of this situation unharmed.

Hyde pursed his lips and leaned his head to the right, feigning to contemplate the question. "What do I want? A lot of things, Mr. Stride. But to have you on your knees, begging for mercy would certainly be a start." 

"You... you're insane! Stay away from me," he cried, naked panic shining in his eyes as he backed away in the vain hope to escape the taller man. The wolfish grin stretching Hyde's lips gave him an even more feral appearance, his features hidden by shadows of his untamed mane the street lamp cast upon his face. 

"Why, Mr. Stride. I heard you're a man who doesn't take 'no' for an answer. Neither do I, you'll find."

Stride stumbled backwards until he hit a wall, and there was nowhere left to go. He pressed his back flat against the dirty bricks, as if he was trying to melt into the stone. The desperate attempt to escape Hyde's steady advance was, naturally, futile. Somewhere in the back of his head, the voice of habit reminded him that he'd sully his jacket. The irrelevance of the thought almost sent him into a fit of hysterical laughter.

When Hyde reached out, touching the younger man's face in a mock gentle gesture, a faint whimper escaped Simon's lips.

"Please! Oh God, _please_." His whole body was shaking, but he was trying so hard to hold still, not to flinch away from the monster's revolting touch for the fear of raising Hyde's anger even more. There was a lot you could say about Simon Stride, but he was no fool. He was very well aware that it was his life that was at stake.

He recoiled when Hyde laughed at him, the harsh mirthless sound cutting the air like a razor blade. "Now you plead! Not so arrogant now, are we?"

Hyde leaned in with a smile. "I'm afraid the sudden change in demeanor comes too late, my dear Mr. Stride."

Simon could feel hot breath tickling his ear as Hyde spoke. He was torn between the urge to screw his eyes tightly shut and the desire to see what was coming. Not that he had any illusion that whatever was going to happen would be pleasant. A brutal hand caught his chin and forced him to turn around, facing his attacker. Hyde's face was inches from his own, and Simon could swear the eyes were gleaming yellow in the darkness. Somehow, though, he looked familiar...

But there was no time to dwell on the thought as suddenly Hyde's lips clashed upon his own. Stride's eyes widened and he instinctively tried to get away from the monster's clasp, revolted at the kiss - no, not a kiss. Because a kiss was gentle and passionate and mutual, and this was neither of those things. Teeth sunk into his bottom lip, deliberately drawing blood; and the copper taste mixing with the smell of the other man being so close had bile rising in Stride's throat.

He had nowhere to go. Trapped between the cold stone of the wall behind him and the large solid form of Hyde in front of him, there was no escape. Prying, icy fingers found their way underneath his jacket, fumbling with his belt until it came lose. He couldn't even scream. Any and all sound he made was swallowed by the brutal mouth covering his.

The cold night breeze hit his naked skin; and Stride shivered violently, involuntarily pressing closer to Hyde's body. Through layers of cloth and fur, the other man's hardness dug into his hipbone. Instead of a new wave of panic, all it provoked was a rush of hysterical laughter. 

A crooked, wolfish grin stretched Hyde's lips and the laughter died down. "You're insane," Stride whispered, strangely aware of his breath leaving a foggy cloud in the chilly air.

"Now, Simon, let's cut the pleasantries and head down to business."

Before he could even as much as think of struggling, Stride found himself roughly turned around. His eyes closed reflexively when he was shoved into the wall face-first, the sound of glass shattering the only indication that his glasses were broken. Then, suddenly, sharp pain as one of the splinters dug into his cheek. Wetness trailed down his face; and when Simon licked it off, the copper taste of blood filled his mouth.

He tried to focus on it, concentrating his efforts on ignoring the terror of what he knew was to come. Even when Hyde thrust forward and his backside erupted in agony, a part of him was still denying that this was happen to him. Such a thing would happen to common whores and hapless girls who went wandering into the wrong parts of the town. Not him, though. His cheek scraped against the bricks, tearing the cut open further. He hardly felt it anymore. The pain in his face was nothing compared to-- that.

And then, unbidden, a large, surprisingly soft and long-fingered hand reached around his body and took hold of his limp member. Laughter roared in his ear. "Why, I'd think you're not enjoying my attentions, Mr. Stride?! We can't have that, can we?" The hand began moving, stroking, setting a steady rhythm in time with the thrusts.

Simon Stride had never been a spiritual man, but right in this moment, he understood the nature of out-of-body experiences. It was like standing beside himself, observing what was happening without being a part of it. He saw himself... his body react to Hyde's manipulations, in a way it _should_ have been reacting earlier that evening but refused to. In a way it should never, ever react now. The unrelenting pain and humiliation made him want to vomit, but he found he didn't have the energy to control his body any longer. He closed his eyes, and just waited for it to be over.

A fresh rush of pain as teeth sunk into his neck briefly roused a struggle, but he wasn't even able to move in the almost inhumanly strong embrace. Briefly, he had the absurd idea of being trapped in the clasp of a vampire. It would suck his blood out and leave his body dry and broken on the streets. Somewhere, someone was laughing. It was a manic, creepy sound and he wanted to shut his ears against it. It took him a minute to figure out it was _him_ who was making that sounds, and the realization only had him laughing louder.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity in hell, he could feel Hyde spilling inside him and the arms that had threatened to crush him were gone. He fell down in a heap, trying to gather himself but slipping on the wet stones.

When his chin was gripped in cruel hold, he looked up and met Hyde's gaze, dark eyes blazing with lunacy. "Now listen to me, Simon." He grinned. "And I recommend you listen well. Keep your hands off Lisa. She's ours; and ours alone. If you ever do so much as look at her again, I'll... Well, you should ask your friends from the Board what I'll do with you. Oh wait, you can't ask them - they are dead!"

Stride fought to control his breathing and make sense of what the monster was trying to tell him. "What do you mean, Lisa is yours? You're not going to..." 

A vicious flat-hand slap brought him down again. 

"I mean she's ours, mine and Henry's and no further interference of yours will be allowed, do you understand?"

At the mention of his rival, the fire returned to Simon's eyes, burning with an insane glimmer that almost matched Hyde's. " _Henry?_ I knew it! He sent you. He's behind all this, this--" 

Animalistic laughter cut him off. "You don't understand anything, my dearest Simon." Hyde smiled, almost... fondly. "Won't you come out and look what we've done, Henry?"

Even as he said it, he began to change, as if someone had taken a cloak off and instead of Hyde, there was Henry Jekyll, regarding the young man on the ground with a frozen expression of shock. "No," he muttered silently, breathlessly. "No."

Stride scrambled backwards, staring up to the other man with his eyes wide open in a mixture of terror and confusion. Comprehension slowly dawning, the fire returned to his gaze, fear replaced by blind hatred. 

"Jekyll!" 

Wiping the blood off his lips, he staggered to his feet. His features illuminated by the dim light of the street lamp, he wore an almost lunatic expression. "This will be your downfall, Dr. Jekyll, I swear."

Jekyll took an uncertain step towards Stride. "Mr. Stride, please listen to me. I--" He reached out a hand, begging for understanding and forgiveness he knew he was seeking futilely. 

His hands raised in a shielding gesture, Stride stumbled backwards. "Stay away from me", he all but yelled. His voice was wavering, panic evident in his heavy breathing. "Once they learn what monster you're hiding inside of you, you'll wish you'd have never been born. And Lisa..." He laughed. "She'll finally see you for what you really are. A monster. A rapist. A _killer_. I doubt she'll be as quick to marry you once she learns what you've done to the members of the Board, will she?"

The young man raved on and on, but his venomous words didn't reach Henry. All he could hear was 'Lisa'. She was the only thing that kept him from disappearing completely in the darkness. She was his light, his life, his everything. The prospect of losing her was unbearable. He couldn't lose her. He _wouldn't_ lose her.

In the end, it was no conscious decision he made. The struggle was brief, the adrenaline still floating in Jekyll's veins enhancing his senses and giving him the necessary strength to overpower the other man. 

Stride's neck barely made a sound when it snapped. 

It was only when the younger man's body lay crumbled at his feet, the blue eyes wide and panic-stricken, that Jekyll realized what he had done. Not Hyde, but him. Staring at his hands as if they were a stranger's, he screamed. The echo howled back from the houses surrounding him, accusing, condemning. With a final look at the broken corpse, Henry turned and ran.

Inside him, Edward Hyde was laughing.

***

The end.


End file.
